The Race for Earth
by LonelySpartan
Summary: Master Chief races for earth in an attempt to stop the Covenant. Will he make it?


In the black of space, one lone space marine's journey is just beginning... The Master Chief walked through the tall grass, unaware of what lay ahead. His instincts told him to turn back, but he kept walking. The grasses soon gave way to rocky desert; something white, something alive stood before him. As he moved closer, he saw it; it was a sea of Flood. He quickly raised his rifle and fought back, but there were just too many. Suddenly, something gigantic landed behind him; it was a gigantic Flood Spore, as big and as wide as the pillar of Autumn itself, and it made the ground and the Chief's teeth shake with the force of 1,000 earthquakes . The gargantuan Flood spore used its writhing tentacles to hop toward the Master Chief. It made massive booming sounds that deafened the breathless Spartan. Sandwiched between the sea and the gigantic spore, the Chief reached for his pistol, aimed for the Gigantaspore, and put a bullet into its bulbous head. The Flood spore popped. Unfortunately for the Chief, it began to flood, not with water but with the Flood itself. The limitless plane covered in tall, golden grass was covered, as were the rocky ground and the Master Chief. Now, the Chief swam through Flood. They hungered for his body. They waved their piercing tentacles at the Chief, but his shield kept them at bay. However, such luxuries do not last forever, and, unable to buck the inevitable, his shields were overloaded and shut off. He was left to be the Flood's host.  
Halfway across the galazxy, Jimmy turned on the television. A long, hard day at work deserved a Bud Light and some quality time with the Tube. He sat in his armchair, put his feet up, and drank some much-needed brew. He put on his remote and changed the channel by blinking and making various other facial movements.  
The Earth News Network anchor shuffled his papers. He would be on in five seconds.  
Jimmy enjoyed the fine taste of the Bud Light. Seeing nothing of interest, he switched it to the news. Jimmy never normally watched the news, but tonight, he would join the many other citizens of Earth because tonight was a night for big news. "Good evening, lades and gentlemen of Earth," the news anchor began. "... Today is a day that will live, or die, in infamy. The Covenant..." Jimmy's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Covenant. It had been widely known that the Covenant's rampage throughout the galaxy had spared no colonies, let alone prisoners. Sure, there were survivors, but death rate among Covenant assaults had been steady at 97%. It was inevitable that the Covenant would make it to Earth. Just a matter of time until ever stinking one of us is wiped out, Jimmy thought. "... have destroyed Reach. Ladies and gentlemen... As you know, Reach is the most vital military colony in the UNSC. Many of our sons and our daughters were serving on Reach, and many of those are now dead. They did not go lightly, however; each and every Marine, Special Forces, Army regular, and, so help us, God, cook, fought bravely until the end. Dead, too, are the SPARTANS. They are gone, now, also casualties of the Fall of Reach. I suppose it is a fitting end for a SPARTAN, their last stand to be on Reach, mirroring, the days of old Greece, when the great King Leonidas, drastically outnumbered, proudly led his small group of Greece's most elite warriors against the mighty armies of the Persian Empire..." Jimmy spat out his beer. The Covenant had gotten Reach. That could mean only one thing. They were coming for Earth, too. And the SPARTANS, gone, too. Jimmy was insulted as well as injured. That meant his whole science team had been working for nothing. Morale had been at an all-time low at UNSC R&D. Before this, it couldn't have gotten any lower, but now, it had just hit rock bottom and was now drilling a hole in search of coal. Jimmy's phone began to ring. He picked it up. "Hi, Mom. Yes, of course, I've heard the news. What? What do you want me to do about it? I can't do that. Don't be afraid. The Covenant will never find Earth. No, I'm not just saying that to comfort you. It's the truth. UNSC has strict policies about destroying the databanks and all that other stuff. Alright. Yeah, I'll be over there in the morning. Don't worry; we'll be fine." Jimmy hung up the phone. He had to get to the lab. He had to find out what their plan was now. He opened his door and headed for the subway. Jimmy descended the stairs to the New York City subway system. The New York City subway system had been the first subway system in the world, and though the technology had changed, the subway's underground atmosphere had not. 600 years had mutated the underground transportation system from the caves of old to the caves of tomorrow; pale electric lights had given way to fluorescent light, and finally, light-producing algae had replaced man-made lights altogether. It was an ecologically-friendly way of producing light that cost little to maintain, and it did off lots of fresh oxygen. Jimmy pondered this light-giving algae until the subway train finally arrived.   
The door opened, and Jimmy entered the train car and sat down. He looked around at other people, noting the grim faces that hadn't changed since he stepped out of his house. A television monitor displayed torn and twisted pieces of UNSC frigates and battleships. Jimmy watched as salvage teams tried to save anything they could from the wreckage, and a glaring number at the bottom of the screen screamed 80 percent battle casualties. As soon as the train had stopped, Jimmy exited subway. Jimmy double-timed it the rest of the way to the lab, hopped up the giant stairs, and went in. Before him stood a blank wall. Instinctively, he took out his card and swiped it through a card reader. The door opened. A second security check scanned his palm print, finger print, and retina. A third check scanned his DNA, and a final check asked for his voice and password. The huge vault door opened. Inside, a handful of scientists were putting the finishing touches on their latest project: the Mark VI MJOLNIR battle armor. With the SPARTANS gone, the future of this latest, greatest incarnation may never be completed, for only when a SPARTAN filled the suit's cavities would the suit be complete. Master Chief awoke from his Flood-infested slumber aboard his escape boat and sat up. He looked out of the Longsword's window at the universe; it was beautiful, and, yet, it hid the dangers that lurked behind its misty haze of stars. He rubbed his eyes and popped a nutrient pill into his mouth. It was supposed to be banana flavored, if bananas were tasting like chalk nowadays. He walked into the bathroom and took a big long leak. The machines hummed and whirred as they recycled the water from the Chief's urine. The Chief walked back out, examined a couple of readings on the monitor, and sat back down. "Cortana?" Cortana appeared as a ghostly hologram. "Yes, Chief? Chief! Put some clothes on!" Blushing, he let out a bashful laugh and slipped on a pair of battle fatigues. "Cortana, I've been meaning to ask you something." "I feared as much." "Cortana, what did you find? What did you find in Halo?" Cortana's color changed from purple to dark blue. "It's quite a long story, actually. The Forerunner built  
Halo as a fortress world to control its empire. They also did experiments on the ring. One of those experiments were the Flood. The Flood, however, would not be controlled. A massive outbreak swept through the Forerunner empire. In a bold move that would wipe out the Flood's food supply, the Forerunner initiated Code Gold." "Code Gold?" "Drastic times call for drastic measures; Code Gold was about as drastic as they came. The Flood had penetrated well into the Forerunner's colonies by then. Cornered and back against the wall, the Forerunners activated the Halos. The Halos created a massive blast of energy that fried the organic circuitry of any animals fit for Flood consumption. The Forerunner picked up the pieces of their shattered and once-grand dominion and just disappeared. Some Flood were kept, however. I'm sure that you're well acquainted with the survivors by now. " "Tell me one more thing. Who was Guilty Spark?" "Guilty Spark is a rat! That lying sack of grunt pellets.... He is an AI that was left behind before the Forerunners could shut him down. Before the Flood ransacked the galaxy, Guilty Spark was a science AI. It is possible that he was the one who engineered and/or released the Flood, as it is my belief that he had become self-aware by the time of the outbreak." "Self-aware?... Something tells me he wanted his organic overlords out of the way." "Precisely." "Cortana, where are we now?" "13 light-years from Earth." "Make haste, then! We must stop the Covenant!" Master Chief lay back down and went to sleep. He began to snore like a chainsaw, and Cortana smiled. Master Chief once again visited the dream world, and the company was a whole lot more human this time around. The deceased SPARTAN, Linda, appeared before him. Her long, blonde hair glistened with the light of a distant star, and her body seemed to glow. He cried out to her, but he knew that no amount of crying would be enough to bring her back. The Chief felt remorse and guilt for not saving her. His mind replayed her death; he watched as Linda grabbed his arm, so close to being pulled from danger, yet so far. Linda's body jerked; blood began to pour through the mortal wound inflicted by a Covenant sniper. The Chief viciously applied bio-foam to the wound, injected her with an anti-shock drug, and covered the wound with bandages, but it was too late. He performed CPR, but Linda would not return. The Covenant had taken the thing most dear to him. He stood now on a short cliff, overlooking a vast ocean resembling those on Halo. With the wind in his hair, the salty smell of the sea in his nose, and the sand beneath his feet, he spread Linda's ashes over the murky waters. Beside the Master Chief stood his SPARTAN brethren, all in formal clothing, all deceased. Their sparkling medals were the only remnants of their lives remaining. The medals were the last memories of these shattered soldiers. They had shown up to welcome their fallen comrade to the afterlife, and as they saluted her, Linda appeared with them. A tear rolled down the Chief's cheek as the SPARTANs themselves, disappeared. The Chief was left by himself; he was the first, and now, he was the last. The Chief watched a massive, black storm form somewhere across the ocean and felt its thunderous booms. The thunderhead reached up into the heavens, gathering strength from the warm seas around it. He felt alone; He was alone. He would have to face the storm alone. Though a strong wind almost blew him over, he stood tall. He knew what he had to do. Jimmy sank down into a chair in the meeting room. He sipped his coffee. It was surprisingly good and had a nice caffeine kick to it. The lead designer walked in. Mr. Fujimoto stood in front of them and sighed. He pressed a key, and a hologram of the Mark VI sprung from thin air. "This, as you know, ladies and gentlemen, is the Mark VI battle armor. Now, I know you've seen the reports. I know, they are disheartening. Don't worry; I've gotten word from HQ to continue with the project. They have ordered one suit. What that means, I do not know, but they have sent me some rather interesting technology." The scientist pressed another key, and yet another hologram appeared. It was a ball. The ball lit up in a bright flash and morphed into a plasma sword. "This, ladies and gentlemen, is a plasma sword. It is captured Covenant technology. Until now, we had not the slightest clue of how it worked or even how to capture it, but with a little human ingenuity, we found out. The Brass at HQ wants us to integrate it with the new suit. I've drawn up a few instructions and plans, but they need refining. If you could just work it out amongst yourselves, that would be great. So far, the plasma sword is the closest thing to a light saber that we've ever seen, enough to send a Star Wars nerd into a frothing frenzy. " Jimmy took a copy of the notes and flipped through them. The plans called for connecting the shield geometric regulator to the hand and focusing some of the shield's energy through a clenched fist to form an energy blade. It would work, and the energy suit would have a new multi-purpose slicing tool. He wondered if they could add in a wine opener and nail file, as well. There were also discussions about an experimental power source being installed in the suit. The suit's AI would get a faster CPU. There would be little added bonuses in the visor, and a final jetpack model had been completed and was currently being installed. Jimmy's expertise in shield technology, however, demanded that he assist in the installation of the plasma sword. He always got to do the fun stuff. He hurried off after the meeting to do the appointed task. High over Mars, the Covenant scout ship, Guiding Prophet, sat cloaked in silence. The ship quietly gathered information about human defense capabilities regarding Mars, Earth, and the moon. "If we strike now, the humans will not be able to put up a fight," stated the commanding officer of the ship. The resplendent figure on the screen shifted. "Commander, when have they ever? I would do right to remind you that the Way of the Prophets requires that we strive for perfection, and perfection takes time. Our forces will be their in due time; impatience is of little use to the Covenant. Furthermore, you will continue to hold position and gather data for the invasion. Remember: our day is at hand and the final victory almost ours. The Humans will soon be one with oblivion." "Yes, sir. I shall maintain our current status. End transmission." Location: Mars  
Time: Zero Hour  
Mission: Suicide Space: the ultimate chess board. 3-dimensional, infinitely large, and able to field chess pieces of immense shape and power. Cortana ran the space chess program. A thousand chess pieces on each side, the dark chess pieces replaced by sleek, purple star fighters, the white side represented by crude space-faring vessels engineered more for utility's sake rather than beauty. The flagship, Hand of God, super-cruiser and coordinator of the "black" fleet juxtaposed with the Orion, most powerful ship in the mortal realm and leader of the valiant "white" defenders of Earth. They did do heavenly battle, man versus his nemesis, on that ancient day of Ragnarok. And far away slept the last chance for humanity. He would not be their ultimate savior, but he would make his indelible mark on this glorious space opera. As the opening salvos of the chess game were fired, his eyes began to open. In the blink of an eye, the Spartan stood up, pulled on his undergarment and entered his Mark 5 battle armor. Though the armored knight's steed had changed, he still rode toward battle with the same swiftness. "I'm glad you are up. We're approaching Mars, and it sounds like the Martians really need our help. The Covenant have already secured sections of the planet, and the Martians are trying to take it back. I think those Covenant could use a helping of genuine super soldier, Chief, so we're going in hot" reported Cortana. "Agreed. What about Earth?" "Earth can take care of itself for now." "Are you sure?" "Trust me." The Master Chief checked and re-checked the shotgun and rocket launcher that had delivered him from Halo. If they were going in hot, he'd need them. He made sure his trusty M6D pistol was loaded and ready to fire and attached it to his leg plate. The Long sword began to buck and shake as it entered Martian atmosphere. It was a bumpy ride, vomit-inducing to most people, yet the Spartan was immune to the effects. The aircraft began to trail thick, brown smoke as it streaked across the sky. Below, Covenant ground forces were fighting a pitched battle with a group of grizzled marines backed by air and armor support. The Martian landscape, against impossible odds, had become even more pitted and cratered than before the Covenant arrived. Master Chief felt the impact. It was hard but not as hard as the landing on Halo. "Nice one," he told Cortana as he literally put her into his head. "Be careful, Chief. We landed in the middle of a firefight. Don't get sloppy." Hoisting the rocket launcher onto his shoulder, he hit the door controls and watched as a group of surprised Jackals and Grunts walked up to the downed bird. The Master Chief, stood, cloaked in the darkness of the entrance, rocket launcher pointed at the center of the Covenant. The Jackal corporal ordered one of the grunts to check it out. The grunt reluctantly stepped up the ramp and was enveloped by darkness. The Spartan instinctively slung his rocket launcher, disabled the grunt, and slit the neck of the grunt with his commando knife. He threw the grunt back down the ramp as if it were a bowling ball. The Jackal hopped out of the way of the grunt and ordered his subordinates to fire, but it was too late. A rocket streaked out of the darkness and hit the platoon dead center. The Jackal felt shrapnel tear through his body, took his last gasping breath, and died. Other Covenant weren't so lucky, however. The ground had been covered in Covenant parts and Covenant blood. A limbless grunt was sprawled across the ramp. Another jackal had been blown to bits, but his head remained. It would have made an excellent soccer ball, if he had had the time. Thus, the Spartan slung his Rocket launcher and said goodbye to the ship that had saved him from Halo. He ran down the ramp in a blur, hopped into a trench, and checked his position. The Covenant had the upper hand on the marines... for now. "Look, above us... It's beautiful." Above Mars, above the moon, and above the Earth, the deadly game of chess was being played. Thousands of spacecraft and thousands of bursts of light, brighter than any star or planet, could be seen waging their deadly war for the fate of the universe and for all to see.   
Seeing the jackal's head had reminded the Chief of how fun sports could be. Seeking a sniper rifle, he finally found one and pried it from the cold, dead hands of a fallen marine. His lack of rocket ammunition made the sniper rifle an excellent replacement. He scanned the battlefield and centered upon a lone human compound besieged by 3 elites and 2 hunters. Marines had fiercely defended it from wave after wave until there was only one left. In the scope of his sniper rifle, he witnessed the last defender get incinerated. Reveling in his victory, one of the hunters crushed the blackened skull of the marine to powder with his foot. Not a second later, a heavy round ripped through the hunter's privates, killing him instantly. The elites stopped laughing and congratulating the now-dead hunter and were hit by the sound of the rifle going off. Their heads snapped toward its origin. "Wort wort wort!" "I think it's time for a little game of baseball with me as the pitcher," said the Master Chief. He aimed at one of the elites and pulled the trigger. The elite caught the round... with his mouth. "Strike one." Again, the sound hit the elites well after the bullet had hit the target, and before the sound had faded, 3 headless elites lay dead in the Martian soil. "Strike three.... You're out." Master Chief hopped out of the trench and ran up to the pitiful corpse of the downed hunter, ripped the fuel rod cannon from its cold, dead Covenant hands and mercilessly blasted the remaining hunter until it was cooked. "Well-done, Chiefy! I don't think they liked baseball. Perhaps human sports are much to violent for them," Cortana joked. "You're right. I think the visiting team is going to need replacement players. These guys look a little banged up" Inside the compound, dozens of wounded and dying marines littered the floor. The main room itself was a mess. Blood was splattered over the walls and floor, and empty bio-foam canisters were everywhere. Medics buzzed around the bodies, healing those that could be healed and sedating the rest. As the door to the compound opened, a sedated marine sat up and looked at the newcomer. "Look, everybody, it's a big green alien," the marine yelled. All eyes turned toward the big, green alien as it began to speak its strange dialect, and for a moment, most of the tortured screams had stopped. "Who's in charge here," it asked. "That ain't no alien, you crazy foo'! That's a... Spartan!" Murmurs spread like wildfire. The Spartans were thought to be dead, casualties of the Covenant's destruction of Reach. If there was one alive, they'd have hope. If there were more, they may be able to win the war for earth after all. But what was he doing on Mars? Cautiously, a lone marine looking for answers stepped up to the looming green giant. "I'm in charge here. Lance corporal Conan O'brian at your service. To tell you the truth, sir, we all thought the Spartans were dead. At least, that's what the reports say. Anyway, what brings you to Mars?" "Seems like you have a Covenant problem, and they need to be exterminated." "That's an understatement, sir. From what we've gathered on radio reports, the Covenant have set up their main base in New Baghdad. We were planning an assault on the bastards using everything we could muster, but until you came along, our forces seemed inadequate. As long as they control New Baghdad, you can count Mars out of the fight." "Tisk tisk tisk, that's not very war-god-like of the red planet, now is it?" Cortana, who had for some time been silent, finally spoke up. "Commander, I want you to get these wounded ready for evac; pelicans are already on their way. The Chief and I will hitch a ride with you and your boys and plan the liberation of New Baghdad there." Confused at the strange woman's voice, Lance Corporal Conan O'Brian gave the word that they were moving out. Among the twisted, broken bodies lay a young marine. His lungs had been punctured by shrapnel, and every breath was its own battle. The Chief knelt next to this young marine and held his hand. For a moment, all was at peace. "Stay down, soldier....," whispered the cyborg. "Sir... yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He was dead. Overcome with emotion and at the end of his rope, Chief yanked off the dead man's dog tags and gave them to O'brian. "They say dead men tell no tale... Well, they're wrong. This dead man has a tale. He also had a future. The Covenant took away that future and destroyed it without care. It's time for us to make sure that they get repaid. I will not stop until each and every one of them is dead. That is all."   
New York City: Covenant playground The city, besieged and burned, had become a battleground. Human and Covenant forces exchanged ground and gave ground. Burning cars, fallen buildings, and dead bodies were now common sights in the city. It had become a guerilla war. In the city, however, humans had the advantage. The Covenant would drink from the cup of death. In the heart of New York City and the heat of battle, a charging elite sliced a fleeing human in half with his plasma sword and laughed. He was splashed with blood, and that pissed him off. There was nothing more repulsive to a Covenant elite than getting yourself dirtied by the blood of your fallen, unclean foes. Still, it could have been worse. Their unclean bullets could have pierced his skin, and, worse yet, he could be the one lying on the ground, forever branded by the purest form of shame at falling victim to the unclean ones. A human ran out into the street carrying two flaming bottles and yelled as it threw one of the bottles at a group of grunts. The elite saw the crude incendiary device burst into flaming glass and liquid. Engulfing the grunts in flame, the molten shards of the wine bottle punctured the tanks of the flammable methane, and, consequently, lit the flammable gas on fire. A string of grunt fireworks erupted, turning all of the grunts into brilliant flashes of light. "Take that, you Covenant mutha sukkaz!" With that, the human ran for cover, leaving the six grunts to flame and burn in the street. A hunter had noticed the death of the grunts, and, while not in a particular fervor to avenge the grunts, he just couldn't stand for humans to be alive. It charged the human head on, destroying broken, dented cars and mangled trashcans in its path. He chased it up a flight of white marble stairs and impaled it on the door. And with his last bit of strength, the human bashed the Molotov cocktail against the hunter's armor. The people inside the building jumped as long, bloody spikes ripped their way through the doorway. Seconds later, the door exploded. Although its armor protected it for the most part, a single shard of glass passed into the hunter's neck and severed a vital artery. It fell through the door, greeted by a hail of bullets. The scientists watched as the hunter performed a dance of death. It dragged itself across the room as orange blood spurted from its neck. "Cease-fire! It's dead," Pittman yelled. Indeed, the mighty beast fell dead. "Hey, man. When's that evac coming, man? If we don't get this suit out of here, the Covenant will get it," Hudson asked hysterically. "Why don't you shut your hole, Hudson. The Evac'll be here when it gets here. Don't you remember what they said in basic," asked Smith.   
Jimmy saw a dim light flashing through the smoking remains of the hunter and let loose with the battle rifle. The elite's shield fizzled and popped. He dove for cover. Humans, he thought. "Damn those humans!!" He called out to a lone jackal wandering around aimlessly; the jackal's squad had had a little run-in with a couple of rednecks who had horded rocket launchers and grenades and had finally decided to share. Time to join them, the elite thought. He tossed the jackal into the room. It was gunned down in a hail of bullets, but seconds later, the elite was inside the building. The elite activated its sword and dove it deep into Fujimoto's chest. He swept it left and right, and two more scientists hit the floor. He killed 3 more scientists before the humans even reacted. Jimmy watched the scientists fall to pieces in the heat of battle. He lifted his rifle and begun to fire. He finally penetrated through the elite's shield and sent a bullet into the elite's brain. He was the only one left, however. The evac did arrive, with only one scientist left to greet them. Marines hopped out of the pelican, secured the area, and entered the building. The marines found Jimmy sitting on a crate, his head down-turned. He had covered his butchered colleagues with a tarp, but their image would haunt him forever. He'd have to get that memory erased. The marines helped him load 4 prototype Mark 6 battle armors onto the pelican, and as they lifted away, Jimmy popped a cigarette into his mouth. As the only man alive who held the suit's secrets, he had a date with destiny. Master Chief and a team of hardworking marines had dug a trench in 20 minutes. This trench, however, was different. As medics began to carry bodies of those who hadn't made it, it had become obvious that this was a mass grave. One marine, the very same that the Chief had witnessed die, was laid to rest in the trench. While someone played Taps on an old, brass French horn. they covered the fallen with red Martian soil. The ancient musical instrument, completely obsolete yet undying, produced a rich melody that accompanied the dead on their way to wherever souls go. In other circumstances, their comrades would have been given a proper burial, but the sake of Earth, Mars, and humankind were in the balance. The Covenant would throw everything into upsetting the balance. Master Chief sunk into his seat as the Pelican hit a pocket of anti-aircraft fire. The shrapnel didn't really spook him much, but this chance was the first for him to relax since he had touched down on Mars six hours ago. Since then, he had killed plenty of Covenant, helped load wounded onto Pelicans, and buried the dead. He was just a little tired. He noted the relative silence of the marines. There were a few chipper ones, but most were biding their time quietly until it was their turn to buy the farm. "Sorry about that, just coming into a little bit of turbulence. Remember, folks, flying pieces of hot, razor-sharp metal can't kill you; they can only maim and gruesomely disfigure you," said the pilot over the intercom. "Well, that did it. I'm feeling better already," said one of the less silent marines while gripping his rifle tightly.. "We're going to have to get you some diapers at base, Thompson," Sarge said. "Gee, Sarge, you gonna change 'em for me, too?" "Don't even think about it, Thompson." Aside from the booms and bangs from below, the marines once again fell silent. Consequently, Master Chief was left alone with Cortana. "Cortana,' he asked, 'Have you been able to hack into the Covenant network?" "Affirmative, Chief. I'm receiving unbelievable amounts of data. It seems that the Prophets have been called to Mars by ruins located below New Baghdad. Those stubborn fools... They're anxious to go after another one. Haven't they learned? They confess to be superior life forms, and yet.. Chief, if my theory serves me correctly, the Flood of Installation 004 were just one of countless species. Halos are scattered throughout the universe, and each are seeded with a Flood sample. After 101 thousand years of isolated evolution, the Flood samples must be vastly different from one other." "What, you mean, there could be purple Flood with giant lobster claws and butterfly wings?" "Exactly." "Well, what is our course of action?" "Wait, there's more. The Covenant are about to launch nukes to destroy major cities on Earth. If we don't stop the hammer before it falls, the unleashing of new Flood may become irrelevant to humankind. There is only one course of action. We must board the flagship, God's Chosen, and prevent any nukes from getting to Earth. I've radioed ahead and tipped off General Bradley to the imminent holocaust. Emergency procedures have been initiated, and we've been given a ride out off of this rock. Oh, and, Chief, you and I are about to get an upgrade." Master Chief banged on his helmet to get it working right. "I was wondering when I'd get some new threads to replace this old piece of junk." "Oh, Chief, you and this suit have been through a lot together." "I know,' he said, teary eyed, 'she's my first. I don't know if I can leave her." Cortana laughed. "Chief, cut it out. You're going to make me cry." John smiled playfully. It was a much-needed gram of fun in a sea of despair. The Pelican began to land as they arrived at Alpha base. The rockets on its underside flared to float the bird down gently, and technicians came out to secure and maintenance the Pelicans along with medics to spirit away the wounded to the base's field hospital. Master Chief arose from his seat and clanked his way down the exit ramp. The techs and medics gasped; they were shocked to be staring at one of the legendary Spartans. He didn't say a word and kept walking. Marines, Army regulars, and Orbital Drop Shock Troops each gave him the exact same, shocked expression. John entered the General's tent, walked in, and stood before the stocky desk of the most powerful man on Mars. "Spartan-117, reporting for duty, Sir." General Rodgers looked up from his work and gasped. "Welcome to Mars, Chief. Coffee?" "No thanks. My suit recycles my urine and brews its own brand." "Right, well... Suit yourself. That must be some awfully good coffee, though. Moving on..." The general's face, contorted by a mixture of shock and awe thanks to the coffee revelation, returned to normal as he activated a hologram of Mars. "Chief, as you know, New Baghdad is here." He pointed to a flashing dot on the hologram. "Now, I don't know why the Covenant would settle down in our fair capital, but Cortana tells me she does. Care to fill me in, Cortana?" "Thank you, General. As you know, the Chief and I have been missing since Reach fell. The reason is... we were here." Cortana uploaded the data to the hologram machine, and Installation 004 appeared next to the planet, Threshold. She began again. "This is the ring-world, Halo, General. It was constructed by the Ancients for one purpose only: to hold this." The hologram morphed into an infection Flood and cycled through its various incarnations. "The Flood is a parasitic life-form that controls the body of its fallen host. Their destructive potential is exponential, and they are continually evolving. This footage is an actual battle on Halo's surface. Notice the way they overwhelm and destroy their prey." The hologram morphed yet again. This time, it showed a battle between a platoon of Covenant made up of elites, jackals, and grunts and the Flood. The General watched with wide eyes as battle-hardened troops were ambushed by creatures that seemed to rain from the sky. The Grunts were destroyed immediately, either blown sky-high by exploding Carrier forms or ground up by small, skittering critters. The Jackals formed a phalanx to protect themselves from charging combat forms but were beaten down to a pulp anyway. The Elites, meanwhile, held their own. They fired away at the surging mass of monstrosities around them until their firearms were out of ammunition. They borrowed pistols from the dead grunts and used those up, too. There was no escape for the elites, however. Their shields failed, and they were covered in a coating of popcorn with tentacles. The camera centered on one of the elites. It fell to its knees. His body became filled with a mass of writhing tentacles, and from the surface of the skin, General Horner could see the internal movement of the infection Flood's appendages. The elite could make no sound but only grope at his neck to fight back the Flood's mind-control. "General, the Covenant are currently searching for coordinates to a new Halo below New Baghdad. It seems they haven't learned their lesson just yet. The Chief and I would accompany you, but as you know, we have other things to do." "Right,' General Bradley acknowledged, 'we've prepared a shuttle to take you to the UNSC Iroquois." Cortana gasped. "Chief, that's the Captain's old ship." Master Chief already knew. "I know...,' he whispered, "Perhaps it is fate." General Bradley interrupted his thoughts. "Oh, and, Chief, they've got a present for you." "Been dying to open it, sir." With that, the Chief walked out of the room and toward the shuttle bay. He got the same ooh's and ah's in his exit as during his entrance. He disappeared into shuttle and sat down. There were a few marines going up, and they chatted with him a bit. He told them about how he would make sure that the Covenant got a bullet through the head with their names on it and even signed their rifles. Finally, the shuttle lifted, sliced through the thin Martian atmosphere, and broke free of its gravity. The familiar feel of space returned to the Chief, and the shuttle eased into the docking bay of the UNSC Iroquois. The Iroquois had been repaired since the last time Keyes had taken it for a spin. It now had the latest and greatest armor, engine, and weapons human technology had to offer. Master Chief walked through the corridors, reminiscent of the Pillar of Autumn, and entered the bridge. There were no grunts to shoot or elites to kill this time. Captain Turner rotated toward him. "Hello, Master Chief. I already know all about your mission. Cortana has told me everything. We are intercepting God's Chosen as we speak." "Thank you, Captain Turner. I was also told that you had a gift for me." "Yes, yes, it's waiting in the repair hangar. There's even a kooky scientist that wants to see you." "Thank you, sir." Master Chief turned to go when Turner stopped him. "Chief, are you sure you don't need anything else? Doing what you're planning is crazy. You'll die!" "I'll make it." "Oh, and, Chief, Keyes was a good man. We'll miss him a lot." "So will I, sir. So will I." Master Chief turned around and continued on to the repair bay. On his way, he passed the armory and the engine room. Memories of the Pillar's final hour danced in his head. Finally, after countless corridors, he read a sign that read, "Repair Bay 1." He entered; it was gigantic. Jimmy waxed the helmet of the Mark VI battle armor. He was done getting the internal bugs out of it and thought it needed a little aesthetic help. It now sparkled brilliantly. The door to the hangar opened, and in walked a green version of Goliath. Jimmy jumped to his feet. His heart pounded in his chest; this was it. His colleagues' sacrifice hadn't been in vain. He sheepishly walked toward the green giant and held out his hand. "Sorry, if I shake your hand, I'll break it," the Spartan said. Jimmy retracted it quickly and waved it around nervously. "Oh, umm, okay. Right this way, Sir." The Chief followed him. "This armor is superior in every way to your old model there. As you can see, the old model has been greatly streamlined. That old thing you're wearing is quite a clunker. Anyway, as you put it on, you'll find that you are much stronger and faster. That's because we've upgraded the hydraulic fiber system. Your muscles and bones should adjust to it quickly. Umm, just take this." He handed a glass of blue, chalky liquid to the Chief. The Chief took off his helmet and gulped it down. It tasted, oddly, like Strawberry. "The armor plating has been improved as well. Our chemists were quite clever. They devised a formula that deflects plasma weapons to an extent. That's not to say it's totally immune. Too many hits, and you're toast." John began stripping out of his old gear. He clicked off his leg plates, took off his boots, and slipped out of his "pants." He also inserted Cortana's memory chip into the new suit's slot. "Also, you'll find that your shield system has been refined. It will now last longer, now. Twice as long, actually... Anyway, as for Cortana, she'll have more RAM and processing power. I think she'll like her new body. In the visor, you'll be equipped with all sorts of goodies, night vision, X-ray vision, heat-vision, stuff like that. The Chief had stripped of his old suit and had begun to put on the new. He slipped on the left glove. "Ahhh, yes, and now for the coup d' grace. Your hand is equipped with a plasma sword." "Plasma sword?" Cortana studied the energy blade's data. "Nice work! You and your team have done a miraculous job. Chief, ask me, and I'll activate it for you. Be careful not to poke yourself, though." "Yes, ma'am." He was now almost fully armored and ready for battle. "What is your name," he asked. The scientist marveled at his work. It was complete. "My name is Jimmy, Jimmy Rollins." "Maybe I'll see you again someday. Perhaps for Mark number VII." He held out an unarmored hand to shake Jimmy's. Jimmy shook it. Master Chief and Cortana then turned and exited the hangar. Jimmy fell into his office chair and exhaled. It was over. The Chief and Cortana walked down a corridor. A radio inside the helmet crackled with static; through it came desperate cries from desperate men. A gun rack folded outward, and he picked up a battle rifle. Entering an elevator, they were whisked down to the lower depths of the ship. "The core defense is too intense. Our grid is maxed, I don't think we can last another run," screamed a pilot "Admiral, tell your men to hold their positions. Reinforcements are on the spoke." "The entire fleet is engaged, Cortana. With respect, what the hell sort of reinforcement have you got?" The Chief walked out into the docking bay and over to a lever labeled, "DO NOT PULL." "It's passing below your position, ma'am. Proximity zero." Master Chief lifted his arm and put his hand around the lever. "What if you miss...?" "I wont." He pulled it. The double blast doors slid back and left nothing between him and God's Chosen except outer space. Down below, he saw mother Covenant rape of Mother Earth. Filled with anger, he jumped out. 


End file.
